Quiet of the Night
by Attenia
Summary: One quiet evening after the battle of Pelennor Fields, Legolas' elven glow starts to fade. Aragorn knows just what to do to help his friend.


"Strider?"

Aragorn blinked in the sudden light of the lantern. "Pippin?"

"I think you should take a look at Legolas."

He sat up at once. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know… you know how he usually kind of – glows?"

"Yes, all elves do."

"Well, it's not as bright as usual, and it's getting dimmer. I've been watching for hours."

Aragorn hastily got out of bed, clapping the hobbit on the shoulder. "Thanks, Pippin, I'll take care of it."

"Is something wrong, do you think?"

"Only his own stubbornness," the man muttered. "Don't worry, I'll have him sorted out by morning."

Legolas' room was just across the hall. Aragorn didn't bother to get changed out of his night clothes as he hurried over, wondering what the problem could be. Something that happened in the recent battle on Pelennor fields? Or another memory? It could easily just be a buildup of things. Legolas really was an idiot sometimes.

Aragorn hurried into his friend's room, alarmed by how much the prince's natural glow had decreased. He perched on the edge of the bed and shook Legolas' shoulder.

"Mellon nin, wake up."

Legolas groaned, his eyes fluttering open. How long had he been sleeping with his eyes closed? "Estel?"

Aragorn gave him a stern look. "You've done it again."

Legolas grimaced. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine, gwador, look at yourself!"

The prince looked down at his own body. "Oh… I didn't realize."

"Of course you didn't, you were asleep. It's a good thing Pippin came and told me, or you'd have been in a much worse state come morning. Now tell me, what is it?"

"I don't know, Estel. I'm tired, just let me sleep."

He'd barely closed his eyes when Aragorn was shaking him. "No, you don't get to sleep, the last time we left it too long it took you weeks to recover. We're doing this now." He grabbed the prince's shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position against the headboard. "Now, talk to me."

"What about you, Estel?" Legolas evaded. "When was the last time you grieved for all we've lost in this Valar forsaken war?"

His friend had him there. Legolas might be bad about pushing his feelings aside and soldiering on without giving himself a chance to grieve, but Aragorn did exactly the same thing.

"It's different for me. I'm not an elf. You know you can't go on carrying all this darkness inside you, mellon nin. It will stifle you. It doesn't work like that for men."

"No, your heart just gets heavier, your eyes get sadder, and the rest of us have to watch you suffer."

Aragorn let out an annoyed breath. "Fine! We'll both do it, then. Are you happy now?"

"Not really."

"You go first."

"You're the one who woke me up in the middle of the night, you go first."

"I'm the healer, and I say you go first. Now, Legolas, before this gets any worse."

The prince sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I guess it has been getting to me," he admitted quietly.

"What has, mellon nin?"

"Everything, really. You'd think I'd be used to it by now – after all, I've spent half my life fighting the darkness in my own home. "

"Yes, but in your own home you have your father ordering you to take a break and lighten your soul when you need it. If you followed such orders from me, gwador, we wouldn't be sitting here now"

"I suppose not." There was silence for a few minutes before Legolas spoke again. "Did you see the soldiers coming back from the battlefield? The ones who had to check the dead for any who were still alive? The looks on their faces never get any easier to bear."

"No, they don't," Aragorn murmured quietly. He didn't want to face his own pain – he was quite happy ignoring it – but he'd promised his friend he would do this too. "I saw one body that had been crushed by the foot of one of the Annabon. It was barely recognizable – just a mass of flesh and bone splinters."

He shuddered at the memory. There would be no body for that family to bury, no way to even identify the remains.

"Whatever can be said about this battle, it was at least better than Helm's Deep. Watching those children lining up to die… it was sickening." Legolas truly did look sick at the thought, and Aragorn watched him carefully, ready to grab the bowl on the nearby table if his friend's stomach defeated his willpower.

Aragorn squirmed into bed beside Legolas, his back also resting on the headboard, and put an arm around his friend. Legolas sighed, resting his head on the man's shoulder. "Will this war ever end, mellon nin?"

"I wish I knew. I tried to get Ada to tell me before I left, but he wouldn't say. I'm not sure if he truly hasn't seen it, or if he simply wanted to spare me what he saw."

They were quiet for a while longer before Aragorn spoke again. "Did you see Pippin's face when he realized Mithrandir meant to separate him from Merry? Those two have seen far more than they should."

"And Frodo and Sam – who knows if they're even still alive. We should have done more to save them."

Late into the quiet of the night, they talked, each bearing the hurts on his soul to the other. Though it was hardly a fun few hours, by the end of it, Aragorn felt lighter. Legolas was right; he'd needed to do this. Elrond had always lectured him that he could only keep going forward into the future if he made peace with the past, that it was necessary for men as well as elves.

Aragorn glanced at the window. "It's nearly morning. Do you have one in mind?"

"I do."

Legolas began to sing, quietly at first, but his voice growing stronger with each verse. Aragorn smiled as he recognized the song – it spoke of grief, but of hope also. He joined in, his voice nowhere near as beautiful as an elf's, but that didn't matter.

Like many emotions, elves expressed grief through song, and Aragorn had picked that up from his family. Slowly, the prince's glow brightened, until it was back to its normal radiance. The song gradually drew the grief from them, and even after that was done, they kept singing, just for the sheer pleasure of it.

The quiet of the night gave way to a joyful sunrise, the herald of a day full of promise, un-shadowed by the pain of the past.

Pippin peeked into Legolas' room as he went in search of food just after dawn. Aragorn was slumped against the headboard, his head tilted back as he snored. Legolas's cheek was resting on the ranger's chest, his body leaning against the man's torso, looking more peaceful than the hobbit had seen him in a long time. He was sleeping with his eyes open.

Pippin smiled as he hurried past, his mind already on his breakfast. Whatever Strider had done, it had worked. The elf's glow was back to normal. Now, Pippin had nothing to worry about except making sure he was first in line at the baker's before the buns ran out.


End file.
